Boogers and Scowls

Today is Dante's last day.

He is surprisingly quiet about it. If it was me, well you know what I would be doing....

Jumping up and down on my bed with no slacks...shit like that. Ha ha, you know me by now. Well, but, Dante is leaving today. He's going to a CR, Community Residence. An apartment-like complex with the tenants in their own room. An SRO, single room occupancy. It is the Holy Grail of those living here. It's damn near having an apartment all of your own. A great point of operations when one is planning to re-enter the world of the living.

Dante has a good future ahead of him. He's going to school for audio engi- neering, and he let me listen to one of his demos this morning after my shower. It sounded very professional, very good. Commercial quality in fact. I was literally, fucking amazed. He's a good kid, he deserves a shot.

Whereas myself...that's a different story. I want a second shot. Asking for a little too much maybe. But you know how the old story goes: You don't get what you don't ask for. Anyway, I wish the kid goodbye and bade him farewell.

I had wondered why he was up so early this morning. When I rose at Four O'clock he was up. I got my shit together and took a long, hot shower and when I got back to my bed he was sitting up. The kid couldn't sleep. Probably too excited about leaving in the morning.

For me, it was nice to wear underwear again. Last night, around Nine O'clock, a washer and dryer were suddenly empty. Something unheard of in this place at night, just hours before curfew. I took this as my cue and got my dirty whites out. I told you I'd get out of the fucking slump. Next are my retreads. I might do those tonight if the same opportunity arises. Do a little at a time. There is way too much to do it all at once.

I read my numerous books and coasted until it was time to leave. I went to the Broadway Starbucks, wishing that the Astor Place Starbucks would open soon. I'm just so tired of being at Broadway. Nothing, not even the good table at Think Coffee, beats my perch in the Eye Of God, at Astor Place.

But no, I'm in Broadway Starbucks, and I leave it for the Box. I stand through Morning Meeting and get my meds. I'm moving pretty quick. I'm on the Way today and getting off at 33rd street, I rest my bag on the platform and knock off a page of the book that I'm reading. My thoughts are not my own in my head as I stare into space. You know how it happens sometimes, you're not thinking, just staring. And a woman comes up into my line of vision. I see her and then again I don't see her. Not until my brain kicks into gear and I notice her catch my dead eyes.

And she scowls.

I'm a fucked up New Yorker too folks. I now stare blankly at her for a few moments more. She turns away. I walk away. ONLY in New York do you get people with cranky attitudes in the morning. She no doubt believing that I was interested in her skinny ass. But if she was paying attention she would have noticed that SHE WALKED INTO MY LINE OF VISION. If given another moment I would have shook my head, clearing it and walked off, but noooooo. Well, so what. Happens all the time, but usually not so nastily. But this simple exchange colored my mood. I came out of the Way sullen and into a gray morning. I didn't want to be here in New York. I didn't even want to be in my own skin.

But New York is my home. I should be used to all this shit. I should be impervious to the little things. I've dealt with larger issues to attitude that worked my nerves more. Events that made me change and agonize for hours afterwards.

Such as earlier in the morning, when I came in from Starbucks to go to Morning Meeting. I ran into Long Tall Skinny in the corridor leading to the Dorm. I say good morning, and he replies with: "Dood, there's a booger up your nose." Now I stop and question him with my looks. A what? "Yeah dood, you have a booger up your nose. Only a friend would tell you that you have a booger up your nose." Just then, Ralphy walks by me, "Yeah, you have a booger up your nose." And with my left hand I found out that indeed I did. Now, my mind loves to torture me. Already my thoughts are running back to the beginning of my day at Starbucks where I spoke to the counter people, stood next to individuals fixing up my coffee, sat at a table among other people...all with a booger up my nose. When, since childhood, was the last time that shit has happened to me?

Yeah, I tortured myself over it, like an idiot. Why can't I just let these things go??

I don't know gang. I just don't know.

Don't bother me.

Hobobob